


And then I Made a Map

by firstbreaths



Category: Glee
Genre: Break Up, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:31:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1031206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firstbreaths/pseuds/firstbreaths
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Blaine's senior year, and it's time for him to work out exactly what makes him shine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And then I Made a Map

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the glee_besties mini bang on LJ in January 2013. Canon-divergent post 4x03.

Here’s the thing: New York has _always_ been a shining light for Blaine Anderson, a star on the horizon that he could find at night as easily as any constellation, a place where he could say that, right there, that’s where I’m going to be me. New York has always been bright, Blaine dazzling on the stage and fireworks lighting up the sky as he kissed a man at Times Square at midnight on New Years Eve. It didn’t seem to matter that, should his New York dream become a reality, he wouldn’t actually be able to see the stars at all, that they’d be drowned out by the very flashing Broadway lights he’d love to see his name written in one day.

And here’s the other thing, too: until recently, it used to be one of many.  Blaine can’t pinpoint the exact moments that the lights of all the other cities had gone out, candles blown out like the wind as Kurt’s whispered _I love you_ s made Blaine feel like his skin was aflame. LA, Chicago, even Seattle, Boston, anywhere music could be made. He’s not some kind of hippy (even if, okay, he occasionally finds Joe in all his dreadlocked glory attractive), but once upon a time, he would have been willing to just run away.

That’s all he ever seems to do, is run away – from public school, from Dalton, from the clear sense he’d once had of who he was, even if that someone was a little too comfortable in a blazer. He just needs to find something to run towards, and -

New York it is then, and dammit if he’s not going to be the New Rachel – that seems about the only way to get there.

*

The first week of school is strange – being a senior is strange.

Blaine wakes up in the morning almost expecting to feel a little taller, expecting his bowtie to lie straight with the first tug. It’s the impression he’d gotten from the other seniors, last year – that being in your final year of high school made you special. Blaine shakes his head as he runs a comb through his hair; this is his year, not theirs. He makes a mental note to talk to Artie – he’s got some great ideas about recruiting new members for the New Directions, because who doesn’t like a little Red Hot Chilli Peppers?

(Except Coach Sylvester, but he’s fairly sure that ‘Young Burt Reynolds’ is enough to suggest that she’s more artistically inclined that most people suspect).

Either way, he’s past living up to other people’s legacies – his father’s, Cooper’s, Kurt’s. It’s just difficult for him to imagine, sometimes, becoming a legacy that other people would want to live up to. He ignores the fact that he was that, once, as a Warbler, because Blaine knows better than anyone that some wounds run too deep. He’s had enough blood on his hands; this is his year.

(He’s had his ribcage cracked and his wrist broken, too, but time doesn’t heal wounds – ask the old New Directions, who spent _years_ waiting for their chance. Blaine’s the New Rachel, and - determination, a shot at NYADA, a chance to prove that Dalton, McKinley, all of it was the right choice? That might just do it.

Blaine’s not sure what to do with the nagging feeling that proving it to himself should be enough).

Instead, he spends an extra ten minutes staring in the mirror, trying to decide whether his outfit matches, almost spills his morning latte and finds himself almost late to school after trying to follow Brittany’s crayon drawn map to pick her up. At least his senior US History teacher actually understands that there’s more to the last two centuries than the civil war. Blaine’s already working out some ideas in his head, he’d love to do a paper the development of LGBT rights in the sixties, and he knows Kurt would have some ideas, when it hits him –

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t know enough about Stonewall anyway. And he’s pretty sure Kurt would mostly be interested in the fashion, although –

Blaine gets better at ignoring the sinking feeling that the deeper he dives, the more Kurt’s going to have to fly. Meanwhile, he’s too busy trying to stay afloat – Artie’s competition for the lead of New Directions is cutthroat, and Blaine wants it more, than he imagined he would. He and Kurt – they’re going to New York, both of them, even if it’s not at exactly the same time. Blaine is _not_ going to be the person who tethers Kurt to this town, this life. He is not going to be the person who, for a single second, makes Kurt feel like he needs to stay.

(As much as Blaine _is_ the New Rachel Berry, right down to the short stature and overenthusiastic behavior in the face of Broadway musicals, he’s not entirely sure he wants to end up stuck in town that encourages emulation of its idols as opposed to new talent, either).

Tina,” he says, as he spots her in the hallway, reaching out and tapping her on the shoulder just before she can turn the corner, “how are you feeling about the English play? I mean, I get that it’s a classic and all, but isn’t Romeo and Juliet a little overdone. I mean, I don’t think we’ve ever even lived out that much drama in a week of Glee Club. Speaking of which, I have a few ideas for a performance, we should try and talk before –

Blaine doesn’t know what to make of the way that Tina stares him down, hands on her hips and hair tossed back over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to be able to play Juliet, Blaine. You can be Romeo all you like, but who’s going to cast me? I used to _date_ Artie, and whilst I am all for strong independent women who don’t need a man, even he’s never going to consider me for a leading role in New Directions. I’m too much of everything, and I’m sick of people using that as an excuse to treat me like I’m nothing.” Her voice rises with every word, and he just watches, dumbfounded; there’s a crowd gathering, swelling into the hallway, and the whole thing is like a wildfire Blaine can’t run from, they’re all going to crash and burn.

“The competition hasn’t even been decided, yet,” he tries, bending over and picking up the book Tina had dropped and passing it back to her. Their gazes meet as she takes it back, and Blaine remembers last year, the way her eyes had blazed as she’d taken Rachel on, and he suddenly feels so tired, so helpless – isn’t this a circular fight? Isn’t it always going to come back to this, not who’s good enough, but why they’re not?

Blaine suddenly has more empathy for Tina than he’d imagined possible, because he knows all too well the pain of _I’m gay, Dad_ and _as long as you’re sure about Dalton_. He knows all too well how pride can weigh heavy on you, make the shoulders of a blazer a little too tight.

It’s that which makes him say, as he heads off towards the cafeteria, “You never know, Tina. May the best Rachel win.”

*

It’s raining when he heads home after a long afternoon working on college applications at the library, and when he makes it inside he immediately calls Kurt to ask for wet weather fashion advice and just to talk.

“Rachel and I were just about to head out for sushi – they have this fantastic place just down the street where the tuna isn’t even tinned. I can’t talk right now, but I’ll text you later, okay,” Kurt replies, and Blaine might be the New Rachel, sure, but he’s not _Rachel,_ he’s not in _New York,_ and it’s funny how the one person he’s trying to be can cast a shadow of doubt over everything he once knew.

(He’s not sure if that person is Rachel, or Kurt)

*

“I’m sorry,” Tina says a few days, over lattes at the Lima Bean. Artie and Brittany are at the counter, trying to decide between choc chip and raisin cookies, and Blaine’s distracted, thinking about all the times he visited Kurt here over the summer, about how to tell him about the fantastic talent they’re finding for New Directions, how he’s all but guaranteed a solo for Sectionals as the New Rachel and that it’s looking less and less likely that he’ll ever have to learn how to make a no whip caramel macchiato. “That was totally out of line, the other day, and I’m one hundred percent behind you, especially if you manage to talk Mr. Schue out of ever using Taylor Swift as inspiration. That’s more about his engagement than I _ever_ need to know.”

“Don’t apologise,” Blaine replies, giving her a soft smile. “although I could have done without Brett the Stoner asking me if we were dating. Apparently Miss Pillsbury gives out free condoms though, as though –“

He can’t even find it within himself to be embarrassed; there’s a kind of unspoken rule in the New Directions, since the debacle with Kitty and her friends – they’re getting through this together, or not at all. They’re not last year’s seniors, they don’t need to pledge it with multiple heartbreaking numbers in the choir room (Blaine’s _never_ going forgive Santana and Rachel for all the renditions of Edith Piaf), but this is their time to shine. (It’s a little cheesy. Unique thinks they should start a greeting card business).

“You shouldn’t have to apologise for the world not recognising how brilliant you are,” is all Blaine can say, and he regrets it, the moment he says it. Of course they recognise it, that’s the problem – they recognise Tina’s talent, and they’re scared of it, Mr. Schue, even Artie, they don’t know how to mold it into something more familiar, something more easily handled by them. Blaine: he’s pretty much been plastic since about the time Cooper convinced him that the key to being successful one day was to always tilt your head slightly to the left.

Blaine had looked ridiculous in his school photos during grades one through three. He’d also won his first talent show at age four.

“Neither of us should have to apologise for anything, Blaine, that’s the problem.”  She slams her cup down on the table, and Blaine jerks back automatically to avoid the splash. “Sorry –“

“Don’t worry about it,’ he says, handing her a tissue. “It’s senior year. We’re stressed. The urge to throw around bowls of soup and lobmuffins at every teacher who acts as though her class is the only one for which we have any homework is unbearable.”

“If only we’d known,” Tina sighs, wiping the last of the mess from the table, before scrunching the tissue up. She looks older than Blaine has ever known her, a frown on her face and makeup failing to hide the bags under her eyes, and somehow it makes Blaine feel younger than he has in a long, long time. They’re barely coping with high school, the _thought_ of New York is suddenly ludicrous –

“Where are you applying to college?” he asks Tina, before taking another mouthful of coffee. He can hear Brittany’s laugh in the background, and he hopes she hasn’t confused the marshmallows in her hot chocolate again for alien babies again.  “For the record, I think you’d do great in LA – although Cooper mostly gets hired to play murder victims and the occasional janitor – I think they actually want him _as a janitor_ – so I’m not sure what his advice is worth.”

Tina glances down at the table, tapping her fingers against her cup. “Everywhere,” she says, “but I’d really love to get into a school in Chicago.” She’s fidgety, irritated, and it takes Blaine a second, but -

“You loved that city before Mike, didn’t you? When you found that Nationals were going to be there…”

“I know you’re all about New York, and I think that’s fantastic, Blaine, I really do, but – how are you not applying anywhere else? Or at least considering it. My mom thinks I’m crazy and that senioritis has gotten to my head, but what if I hate Chicago? Or the people there are secretly all serial killers – I’ve watched enough crime shows to know that the murder to population rate is through the roof.” She smiles suddenly, tips her head up to face him. “You should tell Cooper that – a bit of knowledge might land him a role as the guy who wraps the dead guy up and cart him away, at least?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Blaine laughs. “Apparently it’s too much fun flirting with the girls in makeup whilst they give him gruesome head injuries.”

The conversation takes a turn for the lighthearted after that, with Artie and Brittany rejoining them for a heated discussion of who would win in a cat fight between Kitty and Lord Tubbington (despite Brittany declaring her pet a pacifist) and before Blaine knows it, it’s almost dark and everyone has to head home – he has another act of Romeo and Juliet to get through. On the way out, though, he stops Tina by her car as she’s rummaging through her bag for her keys, and says, “Before – when you said about not having to apologise, I just wanted to check… you know I played just as fair as everyone else, right? That whatever Artie’s rationale is…”

Tina just reaches for his hand, squeezing it tight, and it’s the most physical contact he’s had with anyone beyond his mother in weeks. Blaine forces himself to fight against the tears already welling up. “I know that, Blaine – the entire reason that I yelled at Rachel last year, that I yelled at you, is because I knew that technically, you weren’t doing anything to influence the decision. You just had to be you.

“But – watching Rachel pester Carmen, last year. There are other options out there, and you guys are my friends, so, I just don’t want you to –“

“Thanks, Tina,” and like that, the tears are almost gone. If anything, her concern only makes him more determined. He’s getting to New York. He might have to apologise to other people, but he’s not going to apologise to himself anymore.

*

At his desk that night, Blaine flips through the stack of college admissions forms he’s been in the process of filling out. He knows he’d get accepted to several West Coast schools if he could just get the wording of his personal statement right, possibly even somewhere like UCLA. He’s got the grades, the extra-curriculars, and even Sugar had approved of the bowtie he’d worn in his application pictures. It’s just that, these schools aren’t New York.

They’re not New York. They’re not within a hundred-mile radius of Kurt, and neither is the high school that he attends now – so Blaine decides to text him.

_What would you say if I went somewhere other than New York for school?_

A minute or so later – almost a record for Kurt, these days, unless he and Rachel are somehow between rounds of Broadway Jeopardy, he gets a reply:

_I’d want to karate chop you off the Brooklyn Bridge – Rachel says you can never be too prepared in the city, and the instructor is cute!_

And then:

_You know we’d manage, somehow. I just want you to be happy.  x_

But that’s the thing, really – Blaine doesn’t _want_ to manage. He’s been managing all year, pretending he’s okay with Kurt leaving, with having to ask Tina about her college plans because it’s suddenly occurred to him that the group in the choir room now, that’s it, and he doesn’t know anyone all that well. With having to pretend – like he’s Rachel, like he’s suddenly super into Britney Spears, like he’s nothing short of terrified, because in high school, at least, most people are plastic, moulded by teachers, by parents, by peer expectations. Isn’t that what Mean Girls was about, or whatever?

He texts Kurt back, _remind me to tell you about the cute guy in the poetry club that I joined_ , and steps outside onto his balcony, staring at the stars. Blaine won’t be able to see these, in New York, but he can _almost_ imagine his name on Broadway lights, like stretching for a snowflake that melts just as he manages to reach. That will be just as bright, for sure –

There’s nothing wrong with a little artificial light and besides, he’ll have Kurt, Rachel – it’s not like he’ll be going in blind. He’ll definitely be able to manage it, living in New York.

Blaine heads back inside, drawing the curtains, but the applications for UCLA stay in a pile on his desk next to his textbooks. He can deal with them in the morning.

*

The decision to run for Student Body President is easy, in the end. It’s not even about filling his schedule with another activity that will distract him from missing Kurt, or about trying to improve his chances of making it into NYU. Blaine just wants to do something to make himself proud, for a change – he’s fairly sure Cooper would have something philosophical to say about the nature of regret, and how to capture that sense of anguish by correctly angling the chin, but Cooper’s in LA and Blaine’s here, in a school in Ohio that he’s starting to question why he actually attends.

History is written by the victors, right? (He’s still kind of in love with his US History teacher and her fabulous collection of scarves). Well – Blaine doesn’t want to fabricate his experiences at McKinley during any potential college interviews, not least because he doubts any college admissions team would struggle to believe that Principal Figgins is real. It’s hard, sometimes, watching Joe and Marley sit on the auditorium steps, bright eyed and eager, watch Unique and Jake shake their shoulders in time with Sam’s performance and know that they’ll enter their senior year exactly the way that he did – with expectations greater than reality.

That’s Blaine’s entire life, really; why did Kurt think that Blaine could continue to live up to all those New York parties, those New York boys?

The thing is – Sam is great to work with, too. Funny, and smarter than anyone in New Directions has ever given him credit for. Suddenly, Blaine finds that his lunchtimes are filled up without spending his time in meaningless club meetings and hiding out in the library to finish homework – Unique’s already putting together banners for the LBGTI club he’d love to pitch once he gets elected (the glitter to cardboard ratio is _perfect_ ), Joe knows more about US presidential history than Blaine had ever expected, and even Marley and Jake stop by occasionally, offering insight into his anti-bullying campaign. Some days, the choir room even turns into an impromptu debate site – Blaine’s not ashamed to say that he’d been thoroughly schooled in a rendition of _Party in the USA_ by Brittany, her dancing is fantastic. The only person not heavily involved, on one side of the debate or other, is Tina.

“Why aren’t you running?” he asks her quietly over lunch, spearing a piece of lettuce with his fork. “I _know_ you have some really great ideas for this school, and – far be it from me to invoke Martin Luther King, but I know you have a dream too. Plus, if you were to beat me – I’d be okay with that. At least this school would have the representation it deserves.”

“It doesn’t deserve _anything,_ Blaine,” she hisses in response, “don’t you understand?” He’s still taken aback, sometimes, by her anger – he almost wants to suggest she take up boxing with him. His rage is candlelight, these days, easily extinguished by sadness, pity and guilt like wind and rain, _why do I expect him to ignore his new life in New York for me?,_ and he forgets, sometimes, that for the others, their senior years haven’t been what they imagined either.

It’s like they’ve been living in a conspiracy trap, fostered in part by the antics of people like Rachel Berry. It’s no wonder that Blaine, at the start of the year, had wanted to be just like her.

“What do you mean?” he asks, “Can you imagine if we’d gone to high school elsewhere? If I’d stayed at Dalton, you’d gone somewhere like Crawford County Day?” And that’s a whole can of worms he shouldn’t open right now, _what ifs_ are like poison in his veins these days, _what if I didn’t transfer because I wanted to_ but – “We certainly wouldn’t be as strong as we are now.”

“No,” Tina counters, sitting up a little straighter, “but we wouldn’t have to be, either. I’m sick of fighting, Blaine. If I’m not fighting with Mr. Schue, with my parents about college applications, then I’m breaking up fights between Jake and some guy in the hallway, between Marley and Kitty.”

She leans in close, “I’m learning to pick and choose my battles, Blaine. I joined that superhero club you were in for a while, and – I am Asian Persuasion. Not because I’m trying to capitalise on the popularity of Psy, or whatever, but because it’s a choice I can make. I’m going to persuade others to enjoy my culture, rather than complaining that they ignore me for it. That’s a fight I’m going to try and win this year.”

“I’m sick of fighting too, Tina,” he replies, and it’s the most honest he’s been for a long time, at least with anyone other than –

And yet, he’s fighting that too. Fighting the knowledge that his relationship with Kurt isn’t perfect anymore (probably never was), that he might make it to New York, might not even like it there, especially if they can’t get their timing right soon. Kurt is the shining star atop a New York Christmas tree, but this year, Blaine is learning – there’s lots of interesting things hidden among the branches.

ldquo;I’m sick of letting other people dictate what goes on in this school. That’s why I’m going to win this one.” And he knows this much – he might have started this campaign because he pitied the others, but he’s going to win it because he wants their respect. Wants the respect of people like Tina, who fight just as hard as he does, just in different ways. Instead of wallowing in self-pity, in a million and one clubs where the guys still think his name is Rain, or Blanderson (thanks, Santana, for _that_ legacy), he’s going to earn back the respect of himself.

“I love Brittany,” she replies, “and, I’m not getting involved in any debates - but I know you will. Just – make sure you do something worthwhile with it, okay.” With that, she changes the topic to last night’s episode of the X Factor, and Blaine lets himself slide easily into the new conversation, trying not

The next day, he finds a note in his locker:

_I’m saving my fight for Nationals. We’re going to make it there. And I am going to bring the house down._

_In the meantime, you should start a tutoring group. I think seeing that everyone has different abilities would really help encourage some tolerance and respect at McKinley. Plus I know I could really use the help in math._

Blaine pockets it with a smile, pulling his phone out to text Sam.

*

The realisation stings – what he’s doing to Kurt is the worst thing he can do, to both of them. He spends a good hour crying, face first into his pillow with his hands clutching at the bedsheets. He then opens up his computer, searches for the credit card his parents gave him in case of emergencies, and books a flight to New York.

At the airport, he texts Tina, _sorry I’m going to miss ND rehearsal tomorrow, going to NYC to see Kurt. Don’t let Brittany use Lord Tubbington’s brush as a microphone, either – the hair! x_

All Tina texts back is, _okay but u owe me an explanation asap. And tell Rachel to stop linking me 2 her vocal technique videos on youtube_

Blaine runs his thumbs across the keypad of his iPhone, before switching it to flight mode and pocketing it. He doesn’t have an explanation, but he needs to explain – he owes Kurt that. He owes Kurt –

He doesn’t know, really, and how can he? Blaine can barely eat, can’t sleep, and as the plane takes off, he realises: how can he tell Kurt, how can he know what to say to Kurt, when he can’t even explain why he’s done this to himself. He can’t expect someone else to support his dreams, one hundred percent, when he’s not even entirely sure what his dreams are.

Blaine needs to figure out his life. He needs to break up with Kurt.  

*

Out by the fountain, there are no stars.

The sky is dark, but Blaine feels light, weightless as he tries to determine what holds him to the earth. “Thank you,” Kurt says, eyes red rimmed and puffy, voice cracked like an eggshell, fragile but jagged. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

He thinks he can begin to step out of the shadows when he reaches out for Kurt’s hand one final time, says, “thank you for letting me be honest with myself.”

*

Back at school, it’s all too easy – and that’s what makes it difficult. He arrives just before the bell on Monday morning, promises to fill Tina in over afternoon coffee at the Lima Bean, and hurries off to calculus before Artie can wheel up to him and ask why he looks like he’s been at a rave all weekend.

His guidance counselor’s appointment with Miss Pillsbury falls right in the middle of calculus, and Blaine makes sure to ask the teacher for the homework problems before he leaves. The others don’t seem to think this is necessary – Artie and Brittany are adamant that they can do it on their own, and Sam only admitted that he’s not sure if he’ll even be able to _afford_ college after he became a little too vocal about Blaine’s presidential plan to provide a trip to Ohio colleges for seniors. If Blaine’s only considering OSU out of some kind of twisted penance for what he did to Kurt, discovering options to make himself scarce should an entire city radius between them still be too much, well –

At least he’s able to understand how fucked up he is. It might not make a brilliant college application essay, but at least he’s not deluding himself anymore. (Besides. The fact that it was difficult – one thing that being a senior has taught Blaine is that it’s a sign he’s made it the right choice).

“Your applications are wonderful,” Miss Pillsbury says, “if only everyone who came through this office put as much thought into their futures – although I really shouldn’t break guidance counselor confidentiality at all.” She glances up at him. “You won’t tell anyone I said that, will you?”

Blaine laughs, he really likes Miss Pillsbury. “Of course not. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Oh, good,” she says, standing up to pour herself a cup of tea. “Peppermint? I hear it’s good for your vocal cords. You’re going to need them – there’s some tough music schools on this list.” Miss Pillsbury’s sigh is dreamy as she adds, “the a capella groups when I was at college, they were – not that you need to know that!”

“Thanks, Ms. P,” Blaine says, biting back yet another chuckle. “Except, I haven’t limited my options to just music yet – helping to lead the New Directions and the student council presidency have both made me wonder what else is a possibility. And I have I told you how much I’m enjoying US History?”

She nods slowly, and he should have given her more credit, obviously she’d noticed that a NYADA application wasn’t on the list.  

“In that case,” is all Miss Pillsbury says, “can I recommend some other schools. The application deadlines are close, and I know you’re busy, but…”

Blaine’s fairly sure the small smile on his face is answer enough.

*

He fills Tina in at her locker between school finishing and glee club, holding her locker door steady as she bangs on it, first in laughter at the antics of the four year old he’d sat next on the plane, and then in frustration as Blaine finishes up his story.

“I don’t understand,” Tina says, her voice muffled as she digs around in her locker for her sheet music. “Do _not_ tell me that you’re actually listening to all that rubbish Cooper said last year about Broadway being dead, because you would be fantastic for so many roles. Besides, how dare you ruin my dreams of ice skating at Rockefeller?”

He can’t even bring himself to blush at the compliment, because it’s so unlike Tina.

I’m not giving up on Broadway completely,” Blaine sighs. “At least not yet. If my career as a lawyer, or a teacher or a doctor never works out, at least I’ll be able to rely on my charming good looks and skill at Sing Star Karaoke for a little while longer. I don’t know – maybe I don’t need to be the star. Maybe I just need to experience their beauty for a while.” He snorts into his hand. “Is this what senior year does to us? Have all those Romeo and Juliet metaphors finally ruined me?”

He’s almost glad Tina doesn’t answer that question.

“You’re not Rachel,” Tina tells him, stepping back from her locker and wrapping an arm around his waist. “At the very least, you have better taste in men. I wasted an entire hour Facebook stalking this Brody guy she’s apparently with now, and while I can appreciate some fine abs, anyone that self absorbed has _got_ to have their own reality show. I just hope he takes his shirt off some more.” She giggles, clutching him tighter, and for a moment, he pauses -  

He’s not used to people wanting to be this close with him.

“You’re not Kurt, either, or Puck, or Mercedes, or – although, for the record, I think leopard print could really suit you. That’s why Artie picked you as the new Rachel – you were the only one in that group who knew that you weren’t her, that you weren’t anyone but yourself.”

“Tina, don’t – you knew that too. So did Brittany, and so did Unique; if there’s one legacy I’ll be proud of at this school, it will happen when we actually get an LGBT club up and running.”

“I know – I think I just forgot that for a while. Senior year is hard, Blaine, but – thanks for listening. Your tutoring program is working out fantastic, and I’m _really_ glad you never expected me to apologise for my rants. I can’t look another sorry cookie after that time Mike baked me some. I’m not sure how even his family’s cookies manage to taste like chicken feet.”

“I’m just waiting until the end of the year, so I can establish a plaque renaming the library after you.” He reaches out, wraps his own arm around her waist. “In the meantime – I think we both need to apologise; this whole mess of a year would have been easier if we’d just declared anarchy on day one.”

Tina just smiles up at him. “It would have, but – we’re seniors. The one thing Quinn didn’t tell me is that we’re allowed a fuck up once in a while.”

“Tina!” Blaine shouts, pretending to be scandalised. And then, he smiles at her, a soft, slow smile as his whole body starts to feel loose, like the way the corners of his mouth turn can unravel a knot he didn’t even know he’d been twisted in. “I’m not good at these kinds of deep, grand conversations  - last time, I kissed Kurt over a dead bird’s body,” and it’s funny, that’s the easiest he’s been able to talk about Kurt, about his relationship for months, like it’s an anchor attached to the rope that he’s slowly untwisting. He can talk about it now, because it isn’t him – all of these experiences have defined him, but he isn’t defined by them. “So, where do we go from here?”

Tina’s already standing up, reaching into her bag for something with one hand, and he grips her wrist tight as he follows, up off the stairs. After a moment, she produces a set of car keys, giving him a broad grin that can only mean one thing – she’s got a plan, and no one is going to stop her.

No one is going to stop either of them, and surely enough: “how do you feel about a little roadtrip? There’s a stash of Reese’s peanut butter cups and a blanket in my car, and I think it’s about time we checked out at least one of those colleges we looked at applying to. I am _not_ staying in Ohio, but Columbus is only a few hours away.”

Blaine laughs. “Or we could just go to the Lima Bean and compare applications for grammatical errors. My McKinley education has ruined my once infallible ability to know when to use a semi-colon.”

Either way, he’s still fairly sure the stars will still be shining when he gets home late that night.


End file.
